


Devotion

by medusa_ix



Series: priest!bucky [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Priests, Corruption, F/M, Loss of Innocence, Loss of Virginity, Priest Kink, Priests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:00:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26838601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medusa_ix/pseuds/medusa_ix
Summary: Father James wants you to be his first, and possibly his last.-“Wait.”, he stutters when your hands reach his belt, eyes downcast and chest heaving. The cross around his neck has never felt heavier. “I- I’ve never done this before.”He’s embarrassed. It’s always been right, the way it’s supposed to be, but not now, not when all he wants to do is get on his knees and worship every inch of your body, not when all he wants to do is please you until you are as devoted to him as he is to you.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Series: priest!bucky [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1957699
Kudos: 42





	Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> posted on my tumblr @navegandoaciegas and here too  
> I hope you like this!

The white collar around his neck brands his soft skin like scorching iron when you pull it down to you, your cotton candy lips as sweet as sin as they melt into his, your body pliant and warm. He’s never known that doing wrong would feel so good.

There’s fire burning within him, his skin feverish, his breath ragged, as he gives into the temptation of the flesh. He’s tried resisting at first, back when he still thought of himself as Father James.  _ The lord is my shepherd, and I lack nothing _ . 

But he’s strayed from the herd the day you’ve shown up at the confessional, your soul so light, and bright, your sins not weighing you down, and there’s no way for him to find his path back to salvation, not when nothing’s ever felt as right as his hands on your body and your sweet moans in his ears. 

“Wait.”, he stutters when your hands reach his belt, eyes downcast and chest heaving. The cross around his neck has never felt heavier. “I- I’ve never done this before.” 

He’s embarrassed. It’s always been right, the way it’s supposed to be, but not now, not when all he wants to do is get on his knees and worship every inch of your body, not when all he wants to do is please you until you are as devoted to him as he is to you. 

He’s expecting you to laugh at his face for being a virgin in his late 20s, but you don’t; there’s a small smile on your lips as understanding dawns in your eyes. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, or feel comfortable with.” you whisper in a soft voice, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so caring, “We can just sit here and hold hands. I won’t force you to do anything, ever. And I don’t want you to feel like we have to do this.”

He ponders your words for a second, his hands still hesitant on your hips. He’s never touched a woman before, but he wants to touch you, he wants all of you, only you, more than he’s ever wanted anything before.

“I want to-, I want you, I want you to be the one.”

He wonders if you understand how much, and if the fire in your eyes is only lust.

“Are you sure?” you ask one more time, and when he reassures you he’s never been more sure about anything in his life, you slant your mouth against his again. Teeth clattering, tongues intertwining, he doesn’t know where to put his hands, so he draws circles on your waist until you take pity on him, and move his arms so he can graze the flesh of your breasts, revelling in the way your nipples stiffen under his caresses. His back hits the marble top of the altar, and his breath hitches when you palm him through his pants. 

When he raises his gaze he sees Jesus on the cross, and he’s almost ashamed of himself, until you reach inside his briefs and stroke his cock, and a strangled moan escapes him, the cross forgotten by now. 

You're intrigued by his shyness, your desire to ruin him, tarnish his soul with the same stains on yours, growing with each soft caress. He has no clue how to touch a woman, but you feel the coil in your core build rapidly anyways.

He’s so pretty under the candlelight, his flushed cheeks, the speckles on his nose, the blue of his eyes completely swallowed by darkness. You wonder how a man so innocent could be so intoxicating.

“I want you, James.”

Four words are all it takes for something primal, something animalistic to snap inside him, his hands relying on instinct as they roam all over your body, his mouth sucking bruises on the tender flesh of your neck, the whimpers that escape you like music in his ears.

A sweep of your arms, the golden cups hit the ground, the clattering reverberating in the empty church. 

It’s exhilarating the way he’ll preach tomorrow morning at 10 and you’ll be there, on the first bench.

“Please.”, he whines, “Do something.”

A wicked glint crosses your eyes. “Beg me. Beg for me like you pray for your Lord.”

Frustration does things to the body that make you forget the shame and humiliation that burn your cheeks. “Please angel, please touch me, I need it so bad, I’ll do anything for you.”

Your chuckle is pure evil against the tears pooling in his eyes and his hips grinding on you in a weak attempt to soothe his aching cock. 

You don’t need to be told twice before you get on your knees, ready to worship him.

“What are you doing?” he stammers, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as you free his cock and it springs up, his girth almost intimidating.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” you deadpan, before you lick the tip, your hand stroking his shaft slowly enough to torture him.

“I didn’t- I didn’t know you could-” he inhales sharply when you take him in your mouth, and his eyes roll to the back of his head, all thoughts forgotten as you bob your head like a woman on a mission. Dark thick hair rubs against your nose as you fight against the ache in your jaw, swallowing him whole. 

It doesn’t last long however, and you hear him curse when you fondle with his balls, a choked groan and some incoherent words escaping him before he cums deep in your throat, his heady taste reaching your tongue when your choke on his release, cum dripping down on your chin.

He tries to speak, justify himself, embarrassed by his admittedly short performance, and he doesn’t need experience to understand that it’s bad, but words fail him, his mind focused on the electricity that shakes his body as the tight knot in his belly unravels, and he sees stars for a second. You don’t let him sulk long before you sit on the altar and beckon him to join you. 

“On the altar?” he asks, hesitancy clear in his voice.

“Yes, sweet boy, I want you to fuck me on the altar.”

He blushes deeper, a small smile finding its way on his face despite the embarrassment. 

You straddle him, your need to have him buried balls deep inside you growing the more his taste lingers on your tongue. You wish to ruin him and be ruined by him.

You grind your hips on his, feeling him grow hard again. You walls throb, and you’re desperate to release the ache in your cunt.

In a blur all your clothes and his cassock are on the ground. He marvels at your soft curves, your breasts, the velvety hair on your found, your glistening folds. 

It can’t be wrong when it feels so right. Love can never be wrong, he hopes. 

Or maybe it can, but at this point, he’s long past the turning back point.

Hungry kisses, heated touches, you grab him in your hand, your gaze boring into one another’s as you sink onto his cock. He grunts and wills his pleasure back this time, hoping he won’t embarrass himself again. 

It feels so good, therefore it can’t be wrong, your walls accommodating him, clenching on him, his girth stretching you just right, your clit brushing against his pubic bones.

It’s wrong, but it feels so right to fuck him on the holy countertops he breaks the bread and pours the wine on, under the watchful eyes of saints and cherubs. 

You grind your hips, feeling your core get hotter, his cock brushing against all the right places,

“God, you feel so good, you’re doing so good sweet boy.” you moan, the tip of his thick cock hitting the spongy spot inside you.

“I can’t last much longer.” he groans, his strong arms around you. He grabs you, and moves you, desperately trying to hold himself back and please you.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave some feedback, it makes my heart all soft   
> you can find more priest bucky on my page :)


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